Painful
by Lio
Summary: There was only one word to describe Meryl’s courtship with Knives… KnivesXMeryl KXM
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: It's not often you randomly remember a fic you wrote and discarded two years ago. It's less often you find you still have it and that with a few changes you'd be happy to post it. Ironically enough I first discarded 'Painful' two years ago because I was having trouble with the rape scene… I was worried that Knives wasn't coming out vicious enough.

Disclaimer: If I wrote Trigun it would make Elfin Lied look like Sesame Street. So clearly I don't own Trigun. Clearly I'm not making any money off of this. But all mad props to Nightow and his various minions who brought canon Trigun into the world. Let's hope they don't sue me.

WARNINGS: This story contains **out-and-out rape, not exactly con sex, not exactly uncoerced sex, angel arm explosions, building demolitions, tongue chewing, abusive relationships and extremely violent flirting.** It also prominently mentions the following: **gay sex, infidelity, incest, more rape, child abuse**. This is what happens when you take a romantic comedy and make Knives the leading man….

Rating: **M / NC-17**. For good reason.

* * *

Still sitting on the kitchen table was the ugly letter that had started all this, delivered on a strange, cold day in April. Odd coffee cup rings and the grease from an old breakfast showed its age. The important sentences were untouched, still clearly readable through the stains and dust:

"Due to a continued lack of funds, the estate will close in 30 days... if you wish to correct this, please come to the City Hall in December..."

All things considered, a home wasn't worth much on Gunsmoke. She could remember when this house had been the only standing building when they had arrived in the remnants of this tiny town, 50 iles from anywhere important. If Bernerdelli hadn't sent them here she would have never known this place had existed. Never cared, really.

Nothing had been in good shape. There had been an explosion at some point, and the water mains were blocked. What had been left was still regularly stripped by bandits when they arrived. But the bandits had been easy to take care of, the pipes easy to clear and the walls easy to patch, given the right amount of time. Time was one thing they had more than enough of.

The land here was such that if you drove an hour or so, there were towns where you could get whatever you needed. But the closeness of civilization didn't mean you weren't out in the middle of nowhere. Ironic that the solitude, which they had purposely been sent here to find, had done the most damage.

It had been months since her friends had left them here, alone together. She could see them coming back, off in the distance, the dust kicking up in a column, propelled skyward by their tires.

It was all over now, in more ways than one. Things could never be the same.

He was already standing on the porch, watching them return. His posture was proud, as it had always been. But his body was still aching under his old injuries, and an unsteadiness that spoke of nerves.

She went to join him.

This was going to be hard to explain.

* * *

It the beginning it hadn't been a difficult favor, exactly. They all had taken care of Knives.

When he had first come to them, slung lifeless over Vash's shoulder, they had stayed up through the night in shifts. Making sure all was well, making sure he didn't roll over the wrong way in the night. When they had made the final move out here, Vash had stayed in the backseat of their beat up car, clutching his unconscious brother, and whining when they went over 20.

It had taken months before Knives had shown any real improvement. Unfortunately as he had gotten better, he became verbal as well. Even Milly couldn't put a cheerful face on his repeated requests that they just curl up and die. They still came back at regular intervals during their turns to make sure he was all right. But after a while Vash was the only one who stayed with him. He would pass the long hours of his shift without leaving in his brother's room. She could hear their strained conversations as she walked past some nights.

The whole situation was isolating. If it wasn't the bitterness of Knives voice, it was the silence of the land around them. They had all done what they could to ward it off. Her relief came getting a job as a waitress in a nearby town. Even with the long commute, it was worth it. Bernerdelli couldn't cover all their expenses at least that was what she had told the others. But it wasn't the whole truth. Loveable as the inmates were, from time to time she needed to get out of the asylum.

They had started rebuilding some of the nearby houses and digging cellars after the well had been cleared. It didn't need to get done of course; it was just the four of them. But after a while you needed something to pass the time.

Three of the little houses were in working order when the letter had come.

* * *

She knew Knives hadn't been happy that Vash had left for December. As she had stood outside, watching them prepare to leave, she had gotten that prickly feeling, right at the back of her neck. She knew Knives had been looking at them from the second story bedroom, where he was all but tied down to the bed. She knew Vash had been actively ignoring him the entire day.

She had tried to voice her displeasure, even then. "I don't think I can do this."

But Vash had just smiled like the sun coming out from behind the clouds and hugged her, "Aw, come on, sure you can! I wouldn't have asked if I didn't think you could. He's not going to be too much trouble..."

"What?! Tell me you're joking!" she had indignantly screamed into the black trench coat Vash wore now. She was still annoyed that he had left the old red one somewhere out in the desert, along with the Priest's cross punisher, and the guns he and his brother had been carrying around for over a century. She understood the symbolism, but she had worked for days to fix the damn thing.

"He's well enough to get around now, I mean, so you won't have to do much to take care of him. And you don't have to worry about him causing any trouble in town, he's just not strong enough to. It'll take him weeks before he's back to his old self."

"But you said it's going to be at least two months before you clear up things with the orphanage!" And even then Knives had been healing faster than any human she'd ever seen. Even after months of special care, most humans would be still trying to mend bones. Knives could sit up and even stand for a while with help.

Vash had still smiled that calm Happy Buddha smile. "Yeah, but I don't think it's going to be a problem. He's changed a lot since... since he came here. I had a nice long talk with him, and he promised to be on his best behavior while I'm gone. I don't think he's going to cause trouble just because he can. I trust him just as much as I trust you and Milly."

She had wistfully looked over at Milly, who had been loading the last of the luggage on the beat up car they had kept. She still wasn't sure why she hadn't been the one he asked to go along. Milly could still overpower Knives if he got too angry, and Vash was the only one he listened to if he listened at all.

"It'll be OK, OK? Besides, the Insurance girl I know," he said, beeping her nose in an infuriatingly brotherly fashion, "Doesn't take crap from anyone, not even Vash the Stampede when he was at his worst! A crabby injured guy who can barely walk should be a piece of cake."

"Yeah right... some cake."

"Oh come on now Meryl!" Milly had said, cheerfully glomping her former superior from behind, "If Mr. Vash thinks you can do it, I know you can!"

"Milly..." she had wheezed, "my spleen..." When she had got enough air in her lungs to order them both to get off her, they had all dissolved into laugher, easy and true.

But the car had driven off in the end.

* * *

Routine was the easy part. Vash had left detailed instructions about how to take care of Knives. When to feed him, when to wash him, when to have meaningful conversations about the validity of human existence… What he could and couldn't do how he should and shouldn't act.

So for a while, neither of them had had anything to say to the other.

Knives was always awake when she came to see him in the morning and at night. He accepted the food she gave him with resignation more than hunger, and tried not to look at her as she changed the dressing on his wounds. Neither of them wanted to be there, and their mutual distain worked well against each other.

The silence remained as it always had. No matter what she did, there it was. Heavy, weighting everything down. And with Knives not talking to her, there wasn't much she could do about it. She had thought it was a good thing, in its own way

Then one day, as she came in with a breakfast tray and some fresh bandages, Knives looked up at her and said, clearly, "Human. I was cold last night."

She had almost dropped the tray. "What?" she managed.

"I said I was cold," he repeated, enunciating the single syllable words. "The blanket you gave me wasn't warm enough. You should have known that."

"How could I?"

Silence, as he stared ahead, proud, unwilling to look her in the eye. He took his food and ate quiet. She started working on changing the bandages on his free arm.

"If it's chilly again tonight, I'll make sure you're comfortable before I go to bed."

"I suppose I should be thankful that your species can learn eventually." He looked suspiciously at her efforts. "Aren't you done yet?"

"Almost." She tied off the end of the dressing on the arm she was working on. "How is it? Does it feel OK?" she asked.

He raised the arm experimentally. "It feels unremarkable." He watched her carefully as she packed everything up. She lingered to see if he would say anything else, but he had gone back to watching the distant horizon.

* * *

**Chapter Two... Coming Next Friday!**

**Be sure to review and tell a friend.**


	2. Chapter 2

He spoke as much in the days after that. Simple things, orders as how best to attend to his care. He became increasingly irritated with her, even worse so than when he had first arrived. She had, at the time, started to think something would end in violence, and often wondered if he was weak enough that she could hurt him.

But one evening, days later, he didn't start barking orders at her the minute she walked in the door. She was curious, but didn't speak. Give him time to pipe up, she had figured.

"Where did my brother go?" he finally asked.

"He didn't tell you?"

"He just said that he had to take care of something in December. He said I shouldn't worry about it."

"That sounds like him," she had agreed.

Knives sat silent, waiting for an answer.

"A priest that used to travel with us had an orphanage in December, and we got word that they were behind with the rent. Vash decided to go down and clear things up."

"I see." He tried to sit up, clearly in pain.

Meryl pushed him back down. "Don't do that." She said. "You know you're still healing."

"I'd appreciate some attempts to use whatever passable intellect you have," he said. "It's late. Shouldn't you be making me dinner?"

"In a while. Unless you think you're able-bodied enough to give it a shot." she said.

"I don't know how to cook like a human. I never cultivated the urge to learn how to burn things in rancid oil or drown them in Thomas milk." He sneered.

At least he hadn't called it spider food. "I'll start it in a few minutes."

"You'll start now."

She had hesitated, then she went right back to dressing his arm. Angry, he jerked it away. "Where do you go when you leave this place?" he asked.

"What do you care?"

"Answer me."

"No place in particular, errands mostly."

His cold face twisted in anger "Don't lie to us, human. I can read your thoughts. We both can."

She had sighed, and then admitted, "I have a job in town." He lowered his arm enough for her to go back to cutting away a stubborn bandage.

"Didn't my brother tell you to take care of me?" he asked.

"I think I'm doing that well. You're not feverish or leaking pus. You're not encrusted in filth, human or otherwise."

"I demand that you quit your employment and stay here. How can you take care of me if you leave for hours on end?"

"Because if we would kill each other in a couple of hours," she said.

"You're not a very good nurse, human."

"And you're a horrible patient," she snapped.

* * *

The best thing about living this far out in the middle of nowhere was the sky. In the nighttime the galaxies spilt above Gunsmoke like a handful of diamonds, tumbling over black velvet. There was a cool breeze coming in from the west, and the small, hearty insects that managed to find some purchase in the barren soil chirped their simple night songs.

One night found her lying on the roofless porch of the house Vash and Milly had been working on before the letter came. It was far enough that if Knives screamed in pain, she could hear him, but if he just screamed she could pretend she wasn't there.

The night sky reminded her of the days they had spent in another small town. The place where Vash had tried to heal before he had journeyed out to face his brother. The one night that she had joined him as he sang an old colonist song, laying out, staring up at the stars.

That night anyone could have fallen in love with Vash the Stampede.

And looking up at that night sky, lying on that porch, she wondering why she hadn't.

For so long she had tried to convince herself that she had, and her inexperience with the subject had confused her. Up until that point, she had always thought Love was just mutual respect that ran its natural course. But Vash still confused her to no end. It was obvious that he cared for her in some fashion, but he had never tried to elaborate on what those feelings were. Her own feelings had mimicked the love of a brother and sister, but she had still had an uncertainly longing for it to develop into something else that never went away. She had always hoped that some day... even if it was a couple years down the road that he would feel for her... come to her. In a way she was glad she had at least another month to think about it before she had to face him again.

It just seemed like something that was bound to happen. Milly had had Wolfwood, while he had still been with them, so Vash automatically went to her. It was destiny… or extreme convenience at the very least.

At least until she had heard his voice.

"How touching."

She had looked up where Knives was looking down on her from a window on the second story. She realized that he had gotten to the window on his own, and must have been healing even faster than she had guessed. The thought had not been a pleasant one.

"You…" She hoped the look she gave him was a withering one. "Don't you have anything better to do, than follow me around and listen to what I'm thinking?"

"Not really." he had said, looking at the sky, "Even if I am getting a headache from listening to you moon over my poor brother. It's pitiful how little you understand your own motivations. Human relationships base their strength not in real attraction, but in the fear of your eventual demise and a weak attempt at a kind of immortality through your stunted offspring. At least animals have enough sense to know it's their biology that's making the decision for them, instead of claiming it's a divine and special thing."

"Coming from you that could sound charming."

"You don't accept it?"

"Why would I accept anything you say? You can't manufacture the way two people feel when they're together. Sometimes there's just this… click."

"You let yourself believe that?"

"Of course."

"And you think my brother… clicks with you?" he mimicked

"Not right now." Meryl said, "But someday he might."

"Really." The smile the blond suddenly wore was cold and satisfied. "He fucked the priest, you know."

The words hit her like an ice cold fist through her rib cage, crushing her weak, warm heart. "W-What?"

"No… that's wrong. The priest fucked him, at least for the first few times. My mistake."

For a moment she stumbled around for who he might mean, then it suddenly became painfully obvious. What other priest did they know? "Mr... Mr. Wolfwood?"

Knives had leaned against the windowsill. "It's a pity that age and experience doesn't necessarily equate wisdom. You'd think with enough of both between them that Vash would have kept his mouth shut, or the Priest would have kept his filthy hands to himself. But Vash swore over and over that they loved each other, and that was all they needed to be happy. He always forgets how fragile a human life is."

She couldn't speak.

"Well?" he smiled for a second, drinking in the confusion and horror on her face, "Aren't you coming in?" He had melted into the shadows of the house. She could hear him singing, singing that song that she had sung with Vash, and her stomach turned.

* * *

He was still pleased with himself when she came the next morning. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you?"

"How did you know?" Meryl's mind had been giving her images of things that she had never wanted to think about, odd conversations between Vash and Mr. Wolfwood that suddenly made painfully clear sense.

"I told you we could read your minds."

"It was a hypothetical question." Meryl said, pulling the wrap a bit too tight. "It doesn't matter. I know you lied."

"Why would I?"

"Because you need someone to hurt, and Vash isn't here."

"You believe that if anything is painful, it's untrue? And here I thought you understood how things worked in the real world."

She didn't answer.

"Why do you think I'm not telling you the truth about my brother and the priest?" he asked.

"Because Milly told me that the night before he died Wolfwood and she... comforted each other."

"Really." The 'filthy humans' didn't have to be said.

"It's what she told me," she said. "It's the truth."

"And how does that prove that my brother didn't fuck him?"

"Will you stop-! Milly… Milly's a lot smarter than you think!"

"Ah. Yes. So say you. And my brother." He ground his fingers into his temples, irritated at some old memory.

"She would have known if Vash and Mr. Wolfwood would have been… together."

"Yes. She did. And she went and 'comforted' her priest anyway. I certainly never thought her capable of it. She's usually quite carrying, even to a fault. But it is encouraging that she saw something she wanted and took it. I suppose if Chapel had lived, things would have gotten messy. But they usually do when spiders are involved."

"I don't have to listen to this." She said, firmly, tears welling up.

He snorted. "You don't understand, do you? He doesn't _want_ you, human. He'll never want you. Don't you wonder why he's never really picked up on all those little hints you keep throwing at him? Never stopped to think why he doesn't even call you by your name, even your last name? He's trying to let you down easy."

It took all of her strength not to start screaming. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it's irritating to see you ignoring the truth that's right in front of you. Even Milly recognizes enough social cues to know when to take what she wants. You seem to think yourself to be too good for that. Imagined superiority can be a dangerous thing."

"You should take your own advice." Meryl hissed.

"I just don't like you pretending to be something you're not." Knives said, glaring back at her, "It's like watching an anthill. Entertaining at a distance, but when you have to live with the filthy things, it starts to grate quickly." He said, his eyes pale and blazing. "I do not allow an over inflated illusion of superiority to exist for long without punishment. And the sooner you get rid of the illusion of … equality, the easier it will be for you. I'm certain you would not survive the punishment for any continued insolence."

"You'll never be my equal!"

"No, thankfully I won't. I suppose your recognition of it is a start." He leaned back, and watched her for a moment, considering. "But I should treat my brother's little human pets better, shouldn't I?" A smile hesitantly played at one corner of his lips.

"I'm not a pet."

"Mmm..." He had paused and carefully looked her over. "I will fuck you, you know."

She stopped, turned abruptly to stare.

"Not now, of course." He explained, with that cold, easy smile. "I can tell already you'll be one of those unbearable types who keeps thrashing even after you've been thoroughly broken. But I will regain my strength eventually. I assure you, it won't be a long wait."

Stunned, she had managed to leave loudly.

* * *

**Well isn't Knives a charmer? Check back next Friday for the newest chapter... And don't forget ****to review.**


	3. Chapter 3

It was days before she spoke to him again. They were sitting in the kitchen, the windows open, and a cool night breeze coming in off of the desert.

Knives had asked her to bring a bottle of wine from town and even produced money to pay for it. He had been situated at the table before she came home. He didn't offer her any, and she wasn't going to ask.

He was guarding the potatoes, through, and short of getting up and strong arming them out of his grasp, she finally opened her mouth and spoke. "Pass the potatoes."

He smiled with triumph and gave them up. "You've been quiet." He sounded curious.

She glared back.

"Well don't expect me to take enough interest to try and pry your mundane little thoughts out of your mind. I'm not that bored." He pulled the bottle to him, and with some effort replaced the cork. He placed the dirty silverware on his empty plate, and pushed it, expectantly, towards her.

He watched as she cleaned with interest. "I don't like you when you're not speaking." He said, decisively, more to himself, "It feels like you're hiding something."

Certainly not when she still felt betrayed. The horrible knowledge that she must have looked like fool every time she tried to stand up for them or show affection was unbearable. She felt like a moron. "I just don't feel like talking. It's one of the few things I can do without your permission."

"When did I say that it was?" he asked, grabbing her arm.

She violently shrugged off his hand and took a few steps back. "Don't touch me."

"I was only going to ask for some help upstairs," he said. "Is that one of the things you can do?" He held a lifted arm and noted her hesitation with great relish. "Surely you don't think I've recovered yet, do you?"

Defiant, she braced her shoulders against the arm, helping him slowly roll up. He was breathing hard against the pain by the time he was upright. Most of his weight was curled boneless against her small frame.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"My… room…" he breathed.

She led him down the hall, slowly. They stopped at the banister, and she let him grab onto the post at the bottom of the stairs for support. Powerful, inhuman muscles made themselves felt under trembling skin with every stammering breath.

He nodded when he was ready and they maneuvered around so she could grab him on one side, and he could grab the banister on the other. They worked up to the second floor one step at a time.

His hand started to clench around her bare arm, just above her elbow. He seemed to understand his own strength and didn't allow himself the force to crush her arm. But she could tell he could, even now, if he wanted.

His hand was covered in a thin sheen of cool sweat that made it slip against her flesh. It felt oddly personal, coupled with his strained breath. There had never been any real reason for him to touch her before. She started to wish she could get him to his room some other way, even this amount of contact felt wrong.

"You're frightened of me, aren't you?"

"Watch that last step," she murmured, not looking at him.

"That's a first. And a bit overdue, all things considered."

"I'm not frightened of you!" She said it in a prison yard whisper, as if Vash and Milly were still in the house, already in bed for the evening.

"Really. Then what did you think I was going to do?"

"Do you want my help, or not?" she asked, truly angry now, and more than a little scared.

He hadn't said a word in response. She felt uncomfortable for days afterwards.

* * *

"Why are you here taking care of me?" Knives had asked much later, as he was trying to pick a fight with her, "Milly would certainly be a better nurse. Even Vash could do a better job that you have."

She had been trying to limit her responses to yes and no, since she had already been late for work. "He'd disagree with you on that."

He stared long and hard at her. "Did he give you a reason before he left?"

"They just told me they wanted me to stay while they took care of things. "

"Irrational."

"I thought so too. At first. But it does make some sense. You can send Milly into tears at the drop of the hat. Vash needs to get away from you."

Knives had angrily grabbed her arm, "He is my twin. We are one. There are things implied by that that you could not possibly understand."

The way he said it made her uncomfortable. Like she was watching something she shouldn't have been watching. It felt undeniably dirty, the tone of his voice begged definition, even though she was certain she wouldn't like the answer. She waited for him to release her arm, and after a moment passed, he had.

"Or do you understand? We belong to no one but each other. No one. It will take longer than I expected, but he will come to understand that."

She was quietly repacking the first aid kit. Her mind had been unwilling to focus on anything but the way Knives quietly whispered his brother's praises, their past, strained late night conversations.

"I'm unimpressed that my brother decided he needed to soil himself with one of your kind to prove that, rather than rejoice in the gift I so freely gave him"

"What do you mean?"

Knives smiled. "We are not human. Why should we act like them? Why should we abide by their dated taboos and never… touch each other?"

Meryl's stomach lurched. "How could you do that to him?"

"I didn't do anything to him. I gave unto him the greatest give a being can bestow on another."

"What about Wolfwood?" she asked,

"What?"

"Wouldn't you be enough for Vash if he felt that way towards you?"

Knives teeth had ground. "He was confusing himself. He was misinformed."

Meryl blinked as she watched his hands twist the thin bedclothes. "He doesn't want you either, does he?"

"WHAT?"

"That's... That's why they went instead of me. He doesn't want to be around you for too long." She looked at her feet, lost in sad thought, "He must really fear you if he's willing to leave you alone for months on end."

Knives anger had been immediate. "That's not true. Don't even say such monstrous lies…"

"Ignoring the truth? Not seeing the signs in someone you want to care for you?"

"Stop talking, human."

"No! Wasn't that the advice you gave me? It was accurate, wasn't it?"

"STOP!" Panic bloomed on his face; with such ferocity that Meryl had to take a step back.

"Why?" she yelled back at him, "Why should I show you any mercy after everything you've told me? Is he a thrasher too, then? How long did you have to fuck your own brother before he quit begging you to stop?"

"You.... HUMAN!" Knives screamed, and screamed with such ferocity that Meryl had to take a few steps back. "You make it sound so filthy! It was not like that, it has never been like that! He lets me! He trusts me! Nothing will come of it, no child, no union! It hurts nothing! I love him! I'll do anything to make him happy, Rem, and you THINGS won't take him away from me again!"

Before Meryl could truly absorb what he was screaming, Knives threw a right hook. It would have shattered every bone in her face if she had been two inches closer. It flew left, sending his fist into the cheap end table, trapping it quite effectively. Knives was left in a heap on the floor, being wracked by volley after volley of coughs.

She didn't move to help. She just stood there and watched him. Watched his face go from pain, to pride to desperation. He looked good, lying on the floor.

He finally looked up, bitter. "Are you happy now? Think that this makes it even?"

"No. But I understand what it means."

"What?"

"I can't have him. I can't even try, now that I know what you've told me. It's just the bare facts. Vash and Millie both had Wolfwood, and I'm alone." She paused. "But you are too, aren't you?" she turned on her heel and headed towards the open door.

"Wait...." Knives growled at her retreating form.

"Have a good day Knives." She said, as she slowly closed the door behind her.

"WAIT!" he bellowed.

She hadn't even looked back as she pulled the door quietly and firmly closed.

* * *

He had been like that when she had gotten back, his body still shaking with anger and the heat. He didn't look at her as she had pulled his hand free with a crowbar.

Nothing happened for a long time after that.

He didn't speak, just lay on the bed like a log, and as far as she knew he didn't move all day. The wounds that covered his body had all but disappeared, so after a while she didn't have a reason to go check on him.

He started watching her come back from work from his window.

There were days when he managed to appear whenever she put a meal on the table, but he never said a word. It was just like it had been before, in the early days. He must have thought he was punishing her. Why explain he was wasting his energy?

This silent treatment had gone on for weeks, she went to wake him and found he had already dressed himself. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at the floor. He looked odd in his brother's street clothes. If she had seen him anywhere else, she might have thought he was normal.

"I'm feeling better." he said, not looking up.

"That's... good." she said. And it was true, but then again, it wasn't.

"I'm not sorry I told you about my brother and the priest."

"Well, I'm not sorry I asked you about Vash."

"You're not better than me." he growled, "You'll never be better than me. I know how worthless you are."

"I don't have time to worry if I'm superior to some psychotic invalid. I've got better things to do." As she said it, she realized it wasn't just bravado. Knives' insistence that they were all worthless had struck an old chord with her in the beginning. But now, finally, it was just tiring.

He didn't answer, but after a moment asked, "Are you leaving again?"

"Yes," she sighed, "But I'll be back tonight and tomorrow's the start of the weekend, so you can ignore me for two days straight if you want to."

He tilted his head; just enough to glare at her, anger brewing like the heat of the suns, just below the surface. "He's only ever wanted you as a friend. Do you know that?"

"I know. And you know he's only ever wanted you as a brother."

* * *

**Next Friday... See what happens. (Don't forget to**** review!)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Additional warning folks: this is an intense part. In fact this is the reason why it's NC-17.**

**More sensitive readers might want to wait to skip ahead. **

**Again, fair warning...**

* * *

That night, he didn't come down for dinner.

Meryl wondered if she should be insulted. She hadn't fixed much, soup and some sandwiches. Even after a month, she still followed Vash's detailed instructions on Knives recovering digestive systems. She packed up what was left, and decided to go right to bed.

The old sleep shirt that had survived through regular traveling and at least one sand steamer holdup was comfortably worn into fuzzy softness. She brushed, washed her face and walked back to her room. She paused in the hallway, in front of Knives room.

She looked in. Knives hadn't moved from the slouched position at the edge of the bed she had left him in.

"Hello?" she asked.

He didn't look up, but he carefully drew himself up and stood there.

"Are you all right? You didn't…"

He slowly looked up at her. His eyes were glowing like Vash's had when he had met the first of the Gun-ho guns.

"…Knives?"

She reacted a split second too late, he had grabbed her by the shoulder and started to walk. Struggling to keep on her feet, she had to follow him.

He quickly led her down the darkened stairs, as she trying to stay on her feet, trying to wrench her hand out of his grasp. He was holding on so tightly she could lose it.

He was going to kill her.

"NO!" her scream bounced off the close walls of the house made them vibrate. "DAMMIT! DON'T DO THIS!"

He wasn't listening. He opened up the front door, clearly about to lead them both outside when she started fighting back in earnest. She tried to get a kick or a punch to connect with his face, but he dodged every blow effortlessly. Under different circumstances, she might have been impressed. His face was expressionless. He could have been taking out the garbage. Not a comforting thought.

Running out of options, she dug her heels into the floor and started to bitch.

"You can't think you can get away with this! It's not like you can just explain away me not being here! Even Milly will know what you've done when they come back and I've disappeared! Dammit, you can't kill me!"

He turned silently and, without saying a word, made it perfectly clear that her death was not on his mind.

He had never promised he would kill her. He had promised something much worse.

Now scared, even more than for her own life, Meryl began violently flailing. By accident her foot connected soundly with his shin, making him lose his grip on her and recoil backwards in pain. After a moment's hesitation, Meryl turned and tried to make a break for the basement.

Knives lunged and managed to grab onto her ankle, even as the pain was fading from his leg. He began pulling her back to him by the offending appendage.

Meryl got to her other foot, in an attempt to see if she could run. Knives managed to get up with her, and threw her into the wall, hard enough to create a crater in the plaster. He pinned her there with his body and began to smack her.

They were the type of blows you'd give to gentle a Thomas. Not so hard as to damage them, but more than enough to put them in their place. He could snap her neck if he had liked, not just exhaust her into obedience. Meryl managed to have enough foresight to protect her face and neck, but the rest of her body was beaten hard. By the time Knives stopped, she could feel every one of her ribs.

"Say it. Say you're worthless." Knives whispered in her ear. His voice was thin and drawn

Purely on instinct, Meryl hauled off and slapped him as hard as she could.

It hurt, no doubt with the way he recoiled. She was able to scoot away, making for the stairway to the basement.

Knives followed and threw her into the wall before the kitchen. It was part of a support beam and hurt a hell of a lot more than it had before.

"Say it." Knives said, squeezing both of her hands, hard, at the wrists.

She answered by kneeing him.

It bought her a whole hell of a lot of time, the way Knives hit the floor, and started wailing. But he fell back, against the door to the basement. So, with few options, she left and went into the kitchen she locked the dividing door and made her way to the porch. As she opened the door and looked out at the vast wasteland before her, and she realized there was no place for her to hide.

He would easily be able to catch her if she managed to get away, and it might even make him mad. Even Vash didn't want to make his brother mad.

So she opened the screen door with a slam, backtracked her steps, and fell back into the supply closet that they had built under the stairs.

The supply closet didn't hold much, since they had never gotten around to building the shelves they said they would. The floor was covered with burlap sacks, and the wall that blocked the kitchen out was covered with hooks. They had hooked up odds and ends here and there. The Thomas bridles, cleaning supplies and the like. Meryl carefully lay herself down on the sacks and listened.

When she heard the slap of the screen door, she thought it had worked.

The door to the supply closet had a rusty hinge that squeeled when you opened it slowly. It screamed as Knives opened it. He was exhausted, barely on his feet, but in no way down or out.

_Human._

His voice was in her head. HE was inside her head.

_Not many could keep me waiting as long as you have._

As he lowered himself down to his knees, she managed to pull one of the hooks off of the wall. He caught it before it managed to pierce his neck, and he tossed it over his shoulder.

_But I will not be delayed any longer._

His hand found a large chunk of hair just behind her right ear. Twisted it until she shrieked. He pushed her down to the floor, on top of the burlap.

Grabbing his arm with both hands, she managed turned her head, her lips finding skin, and she bit down as hard as she could.

He hissed at the pain, air slipping past his clenched teeth.

Their eyes locked and he stared.

What was the matter with him? For all his intensity when crushing human souls, Knives had always been a wimp when it came to pain. He should have been whining

self-righteous that she bit his hand, how could she bite his hand, there was so much pain in his hand, why did she bite him...

He slowly leaned up against her, pale eyes still contracted into pins, color hidden. She hadn't stopped biting, she hadn't let go. And, she kept telling herself, if she kept her focus, she'd get through this alive. He had settled between her legs when he pressed forward, and for a second she though she felt skin tease against her inner thigh, before he pressed hard against her, back and up and suddenly...

…he grabbed throat, and entered her with a stab…

Her scream came on instinct.

Her body was used to human intrusions, and had never been built for anything that size.

She felt distantly disappointed in herself when she started to cry.

He had leaned against her gently, holding her to the floor and waiting as her flesh tried to accommodate him. His eyes, suddenly calm and half closed, were a horrible mockery of care and sympathy. His hand, still bleeding from where she had bit him, clamped firmly over her whimpering mouth and she couldn't figure out how to reach up, shove it away. She could taste his blood, but couldn't associate the taste with anything. Anything human at least.

He further sandwiched her between himself and the floor and began to move. She screamed as hard as she could, and her own ears barely registered it. Her legs thrashed, trying to get around the pain to force him off of her. Even as she fought him, he never looked down at her. His hips rocked back and forth, as lazy and measured as the pendulum of a grandfather clock. Never stopping, never altering, the end as inevitable as a fall off a cliff.

His eyes were fixed on something up on the ceiling, his long throat exposed, just out of her reach.

* * *

**The Aftermath comes Next Friday... Don't forget to ****review and tell a friend.**


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

She found some comfort that it hadn't been her first time. She thought about it when he had finally let her go, aching in places she hadn't known she had and rarely had occasion to check. If she had been an innocent, it might have killed her.

She could feel herself bleeding, and she hoped it wasn't serious.

"Get up." he was saying above her.

She tried to work up the energy to point out that if he'd had the foresight to fuck her in a more convenient place he wouldn't have this problem. But her mind caught on the one word she had been avoiding and it began echoing through her mind. He had, hadn't he?

"I said, GET UP!" he grabbed her by the arm and yanked.

She tried to get to her feet, but they fell away from her. Nonplussed, he simply dragged her by her arm. With her face plowing into the floorboards, she thought about passing out, or at the very least throwing up on his shoes to show her righteous indignation. But she was tired. Tired seemed too mild a word for it. Pain seemed like a child's insult. Nothing wanted to work. She was nothing.

Was that why he had done it?

Her face was pressed against a wall as metal cylinders tumbled against each other off in the distance. "Worthless." Knives said somewhere above her. She landed on something soft that smelled faintly of gauze. "You don't leave this room." Knives was saying. "Do you understand me?"

She found she couldn't respond.

Hands grabbed her face and all but pried her eyes open. She saw pale blue. Angry pale blue that screamed her fast approaching death. "I said you don't leave this room!"

Nodding was a struggle, and she was relieved when her face was let go.

She didn't feel anything else.

* * *

She had woken up in Knives bed.

The house was painfully quiet.

She finally started to realize, just what kind of damage had been done. Every inch of her body was sporting multiple finger-shaped black and blue marks that seemed impossibly huge

The inch-thick metal door they had installed was separating her from the outside world. Vash had taken special care in furnishing Knives' room, in the likely event of it doubling as a makeshift jail cell. Of course… it made some sense now; this was the only room in the house with deadbolts on the outside.

She assumed it was Saturday, so at least she wasn't late for work.

Why? He despised all humans. He considered them cattle, vermin, if not outright living sewage. Yet he had...

In the back of her mind, something was concerned that she wasn't as angry as she should be at the moment, too preoccupied with the mechanics of the situation. It was somewhat comforting that he had harmed her, but the way he had confused her even more.

He came back just before the suns started to set. He ignored her glare and took her head in his hands, like a farmer would as he looked over a Thomas for parasites. Twisting it this way and that, to see how far the muscles would stretch.

He had picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. He had pushed her into the tub still in her nightshirt, and turned on the water. Even after the temperature had become comfortable, everything stung. He sat on the floor watching, not moving to help. She stripped down and cleaned as best she could with an audience. She kept her back to him, and it helped a little.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"Because you and my brother keep telling me I shouldn't kill living things." he said, "You could at least pretend to be grateful."

She hugged herself. "You should have killed me."

"It couldn't have been that bad." He seemed insulted.

She stayed quiet, feeling unbearably cold.

"Legato never complained," he said, after a while. The hot water tap turned on briefly, warming the water, "but he regenerated easily for one of your kind. And he knew better than to question me."

"I thought you didn't soil yourself by associating with humans."

"Ours wasn't so complex a bond as an association. And even I have to make exceptions sometimes."

She considered this. "Legato?" The name was familiar, but refused to be placed.

"My servant. The one who forced Vash to kill him."

She blinked as the memory hit her: the sunset bright with all those ugly colors, the loud gunshot, the body crumpling. "The blue haired man in the white coat..."

"It was a pity that I had to get rid of him, even if the time was right. Loyalty as strong as his is expensive on this horrible planet."

The coolness of the way he had said it. His servant would have killed both her and Milly if Vash had tried to resist any longer than he had. She spun around as best she could, old fire in her eyes. "You... "

With her back to him she hadn't realized he was looking out the window. His eyes were still focused out there. It seemed he was hearing something that had long stopped talking to anyone else.

"YOU…!"

His eyes closed in frustration.

"Knives."

He turned, looked at her. His eyes were so painfully similar to Vash. Even the alien blue, didn't take away from the strangely soothing feeling. He was rarely calm, but he was now and he could have made Buddha himself look as stiff as a board. It was oddly fitting to see that even the calmness of the twins was excessive.

She realized he was staring back at her, still expressionless except for eyes that were wide in unblinking shock. For a moment she wondered about it, and then decided that it was because she was a woman. Between the Priest and his 'servant', it was likely that the brothers preferred men. Was he shocked that he had gone through with it? Odd that this whole sordid thing would be shown in an unsavory light, just because she was naked.

He stood and held a towel open for her. When it wrapped around her, he carried her like a piece of furniture back to his room. Laying her down on his bed, he made no move to further make her comfortable. He only looked at her briefly, and then left, locking all the bolts loudly.

* * *

When she came back to the house that Monday night, he had been waiting.

Riding the shaking, sputtering, constantly ready to die Angelina II, she had seen him on the porch as the house came into view. Closer and she realized he was mad.

He waited for her to park and turn off the engine before he stood. She walked up to him slowly, still amazed that he had let her go that morning. He had even complained that she hadn't left on time.

"You're late," he told her.

"Things were busy," she said.

The only person who had noticed a change was her manager Judy. Judy was a nice woman overall, but she liked to call everyone hon. And she looked and dressed just like an older waitress who liked to call everyone 'Hon'. She had taken the weariness as common exhaustion from a fun weekend and would have sent her home early if Meryl hadn't frantically talked her out of it.

"You're two hours late." He limped over to the steps. "They couldn't have been that busy."

He must have thought she had run away. She had thought about it, and almost asked a few of the regulars if they had a room they were willing to rent out on short notice. But she hadn't been able to go through with it. She didn't have any money to start a new life or anyone she could trust nearby who could afford take her in. And what was worse was she kept remembering how she had made a promise to Vash, how she had given her word to keep Knives safe, even when she knew it would get her hurt…

Knives' limp became more prominent the more he moved. She looked down at the leg he was favoring and saw a dark stain spreading slowly over tan slacks.

He followed her eyes. "I strained myself. Friday night." He sounded like he was expecting a lecture. "I'll take care of it. It's not your concern."

"I'll help you after we eat," she said softly, hating herself.

"Really. …why?"

She climbed the steps slowly. "I promised Vash I would."

"Shouldn't have done that, should you?"

She stopped and looked him in the eye. "I'm not going to take it back now."

He sighed, wistful. "At times, you really do resemble like her." he murmured, "Just like he said. It sickens me."

No need to ask who 'she' was with either of the twins.

* * *

Days later the letter had come to the house, filled with mostly good news. Descriptions of the kids that he and Milly had been taking care of. Details about what was going on at the bank. Even an offhanded mention of some trouble they had gotten into on the way over there, thought Vash swore up and down that no one involved was insured by Bernerdelli, honest.

Vash hadn't been quick enough. The bank had finally foreclosed. He was trying to place all the kids he could, but he was warning her ahead of time, that he might be bringing a few home. He had written to her, not Knives, only mentioning she should tell his twin that he hoped that everything was well and he was healing quickly. When Knives had gotten a hold of it, he had read it over twice, and went for a walk. He hadn't spoken about it since.

It seemed so unfair. Vash was supposed to have been back home that Friday. She had been counting down the days. She needed something, someone, anything to put between her and Knives. Vash had been the ultimate barrier.

Instead, Friday morning found her back in Knives' bed, trying to recover from the night before.

His hand, like it always was in these situations, was grasping at her neck like a boy grasping his favorite stuffed animal, hard enough to leave bruises.

In the days just after the first time he had attacked her, he had struck randomly. But now that her body had adapted as much as it ever would to his attentions, it happened on a nightly basis. Strange how even this became routine after a while… If one could say this kind of situation could get better, it had.

He had been started showing sympathy of a sort. So long as she didn't fight him, he didn't try to hurt her back. A simple agreement, albeit unspoken.

She pulled away, thinking of the shower she needed to take before she went off to work. He picked up on the thought and released her. It was handy having someone else's mind working in tandem with yours. She heard him wince in the other room when the first blast of cold water hit some sore spots.

No matter how much she had adapted, there were always sore spots in the morning. He had gotten annoyed early on that she didn't heal as fast as he expected, and showed her how detaching herself from the proceedings would allow her to walk straight the next day. All she had to do was think of something else. Anything else.

At first she thought of Vash. She wanted Vash now as much as she ever had. Not in the way she had before, the adolescent dreams of kisses, flowers and blushing confessions. She longed for the Stampede that lurked under the goofball mask, the Angel of Destruction.

She wanted him ride fast and hard over the sands, that impossible gun in hand, flying to her rescue. In those first wandering fantasies she imagined him precisely firing one shot right through the center of Knives' forehead. The pleasant scene of his lifeless body sliding down the wall, dragging a long red strain of blood as it went.

But she soon realized he wouldn't. Not even if Vash did care for her, not even if he knew what Knives was doing to her. Not even if he was there. After a while she saw Vash trying to talk Knives out of fucking her up against the wall in the foyer, which she now knew from experience, was incredibly uncomfortable. She saw herself trying to push Knives off, Knives growling at his stammering brother at trying to stop him. And she saw Milly trying to cover 12 sets of gawking orphan eyes with one set of hands.

Love and Peace her ass.

There was a quiet chuckle from the doorway. Meryl glanced at the doorway and saw Knives' silhouette through the thin shower curtain.

She kept trying to get lather out of a bar of soap with neat little swipes, trying to speed up the showering process so she could get out and get to work.

She didn't feel as naked with the water flowing over her body, but she was vulnerable.

When he stepped into the tub with her, she tripped and slammed her back into wall, leaning out backwards due to the difference between it and the claw foot tub. His thumb dug in under her chin, forcing her to look at him, while his fingers softly stroked against her cheek. He leaned forward, with silent boneless grace, the spray hitting him at the back of his neck, water running rivers down his pale, exposed flesh. He looked down at her, down his nose. Smiled, just at the corners of his mouth.

He leaned forward a few more inches, just as his thumb and forefinger each found a side of her jaw, pressed into it and pulled it down, exposing her mouth. She grew more confused when he reached in, grabbed the tip of her tongue between two fingers and pulled it out.

He leaned down, licked his lips, and then bit the exposed end of her tongue before he released his fingers. Letting go of her chin, he slurped her tongue into his mouth like he was sucking down a fat noodle.

She stood there, not really sure what the hell he was doing. One hand hovered in mid air, trying to decide if it should strike, push away or go limp again. Her lips were still open, and water from the spray, ran into her mouth.

He sucked on her tongue like a babe on a pacifier, then let it slip out slowly, teeth lightly scraping over it, before he leaned forward and sucked it back into his mouth again. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, just… very… VERY strange…

He finally caught her eye, his half-closed blue orbs locking up with her open, confused grey marbles. Using only the suction of his lips, he let her tongue slid out again, held onto the tip of it for a second, before he let it, her, go. He stepped back, out of the spray. So did she.

"Aren't you going to be late?" he asked, accusingly.

* * *

**As always, be sure to review and check out the new chapter coming out next Friday.**


	6. Chapter 6

She had thought nothing could be as strange as that, until she woke up two nights later to Knives sitting on the edge of her bed.

"I couldn't sleep." he said, "I needed to ask you something."

Her hand had automatically reached for the alarm clock. "What time is it?" she had mumbled.

"You used to play with us in the park. You cared for us very much, didn't you?"

"Knives?"

"Did Vash tell you about Rem Savrem?" Knives asked.

He was looking down at where his hands met, between his open legs, knees supporting elbows. He was cradling his right hand with his left. He wouldn't look at her.

"Yes, he told Milly and me all about her. She took care of you when you were babies. Vash still follows her teachings…"

"Like a lemming off a cliff." Knives agreed.

"A what?"

"It's an old Colonist saying."

"Mmm." Meryl had rolled over, trying to go back to sleep.

"Vash has always been the favorite, hasn't he?"

"He has?"

"I know I'm not happy. Not friendly. I understand I'm always going to be the one picked second."

"Knives, what are you talking about?"

"Do you remember what life was like on Project SEEDS?" Knives asked.

Meryl realized what he was saying and started consciously trying to wake up. "You've been listening to Vash?"

"More than I should. He's told you his little theory too, hasn't he?"

Meryl nodded sleepily.

"And what do you think about it?"

"I think it's a nice bedtime story for a son who misses his mother. I just don't understand why he believes it."

"Neither do I. He talked about it every night. I suppose it makes some sense. You do look uncommonly like the woman, even if you are half her size. And you took to Vash first, you prefer Vash's opinion over mine, like you always have."

"If she was your mother, she would have loved you both equally." She told him, gently, "Vash is just such a goofball, she must have had to watch him to make sure he didn't get hurt…"

"You chose him first this time too. You'll always choose him first, so why should I believe a damn thing you say?" he asked, fiercely. "Did you ever care if I was around? Did you ever miss me when I was off on my own? Did you ever worry about me like you worried about Vash?"

"Knives, I'm not her. I don't even act like her. Besides, how could I remember something that happened before I was born?"

Knives had gotten up, briskly. "I knew I shouldn't have asked." He said as he left.

* * *

He was half way through being done with her one night in the middle of the week, when she realized this had become… boring.

It had gone past routine and on to clinical. This was less defilement by a superior being, and more like her last appointment with her gynecologist. Position embarrassing, the tools colder than you'd like, but nothing shameful or even interesting. She felt strange realizing she couldn't even keep an interest in being defiled. She might as well have been dating the bastard.

She eyed the long neck attached to the head and eyes that were focused, as always, on the horizon rather than the task at hand. She felt her lip curl into a small sneer. There were so many other things that she could be doing right now.

She felt every muscle in her body, including the ones that had been commandeered, tighten up. Detachment. Think of something else, so you won't feel it later.

So her brain decided to tell her all the things that should have been happening. How Vash and Milly should have been back by now. How there should be little kids to play with, there should have been stories to share. And most of all, how there should have been someone else here to take care of Knives.

She had started thinking of all the things she could have done if she wasn't here. Could have gotten some coffee in a to-go cup after work and walked around the little town at night again, like she always had. That had always been the best part of her day. It would clear her mind of the rotten customers. Like the asshole today who had tried to grab her ass every time she had passed by and pretended it was a joke. Bastard hadn't even tipped her.

All those conversations she had with the diner's owner about customer service were proving to be increasingly pointless. If she had been able to smack the guy, at least it wouldn't have been a signal for the other guys to join in and try to piss her off. If she wasn't so worried about Bernardelli coming down on her like a ton of bricks, she would have applied for that job Judy had told her about as a data procce-

"Dammit, I said, look at me!" Knives voice broke into her thoughts as he grabbed her jaw and roughly turned her face.

She blinked at him, "What?"

"I've called you four times! Why do you refuse to pay attention?" the whiney tone that crept into his voice when he was sincerely emotional blossomed shrilly in her ears.

"Why do you care?"

That surprised him. "What?"

"Just… do whatever you want to do and leave me out of it."

He froze for a second, and then he grabbed her face again.

His hand pushed her bangs out of the way and he touched his forehead to hers.

Every muscle in her body exploded. It was like every muscle in her body suddenly had a Charlie horse.

_I give you the flesh of a superior being…_ Knives breathlessly steamed in her head, _I give you my permission to leave in the day and my protection while you sleep at night and you can't even bring yourself to PAY ATTENTION?!_

"KNIVES! STOP!"

_Do you have any idea what unspeakable acts the Gung-Ho guns would commit for a tenth of the privileges I have given you?!_

"I AM NOT YOUR HENCHMAN!"

_No. My men were loyal to me. They did not aid me because they had made a half-hearted promise to my brother. They knew my power. They craved my attention._

"STOP HURTING ME!"

He snorted. _Why should I, human? _Knives asked from inside her mind.

She tried to get a grip on something vital, something that would really sting, but failed over and over again. He grabbed her hands, and bore down on her, pushing her deep into the mattress.

Even her eyes were failing her. All the color was leeching out of the room, turning everything into pale silhouettes of itself. Even without their color, Knives' unblinking eyes were frightening, even from a million iles away. Monster… he was nothing but a…

* * *

"_Monster!" Steve's boot found his stomach and sent him skidding across the floor. He didn't hit them in the face anymore. Even he didn't want Rem to find out. "Get out of here!"_

_He tried to sit up as he clutched at his throbbing stomach. "I didn't touch anything." He heard himself say with strained calm. "Nothing. I was only looking for Vash. I'll leave right now."_

_The heavy army boot stepped onto his hand and Steve transferred all his weight to it. He grinned down at the plant-child as he struggled to yank his hand free._

_Knives hated begging, more than anything. He knew he was stuck, that he was hurt, but he didn't want to break down, not like this. With shame he suddenly realized he wanted Rem. Wanted someone to take the hurt away, to hold him until he stopped crying. He couldn't hold himself back anymore, the pain was becoming overwhelming, and he could feel the bones in his hand starting to give under the weight. "No! Stop it!… Stop, please! Just…"_

* * *

"STOP… IT… NOW!!!" Meryl heard herself scream.

And he did.

They stared at each other.

* * *

**On deck for next Friday... the thrilling conclusion! **

**What do you mean 'so soon'? Even I can't torture these two forever...**

**And I have an opportunity for all my wonderful readers to get an additional, relatively pointless, smut-filled bonus chapter. Details on that will be posted with the author's notes of the last chapter of 'Painful', so come back next Friday for more details.**

**(Cough! Review! Cough!)**


	7. Chapter 7

He knew. He knew what she had seen.

The memory must have come too fast for him to block it. Was that what he remembered whenever someone called him a monster?

He looked as embarrassed as a teenager watching their parents pull out their baby pictures for their prom date. She could still feel him embedded inside her; she could feel him. The way his heart beat against her, blood traveling quickly through his cock - still nestled inside her body - needy as a child. He pushed himself off of her, rocking back on his ankles as they lay exposed on the bed.

"Get out." He tried to put authority into his voice as he turned his head away. The furious blush, visible, even in profile, took away from the effect.

The first choice she had ever been given… and yet…

He hated her pity. He certainly couldn't have a human pity him. Not for him loving a brother in ways that the brother couldn't love him back. Not for striking back at her species because one of them had tortured him as a young boy.

For one moment she had realize she couldn't help feeling sorry for the bastard.

She grabbed him by the root firmly enough to get a serious point across. He did have one common ground with the humans: one good twist could do some serious damage.

"Don't do it." Knives said, through gritted teeth. "I will make you pay."

Looking him in the eye, she calmly restraddled him. Guiding him to her entrance and ignoring the pain, she forced his entire length inside her. It slipped into areas of her that she knew shouldn't be played with. She pulled him out then arched him back inside her.

He gave a choked gasp. "What…"

She demurely latched her hands onto his back, sinking her nails in, and then she thrust against him again… and again… She caught up with the fading sensations of pleasure and began to enjoy herself, despite who she was actually with.

His face was flitting between confusion and utter horror. "Wha- What are you doing?" he asked, clearly panicking.

The hell of it was, she had as much clue as he did. Maybe she was using him while he was still vulnerable. Maybe some part of her thought it would make him feel better. Or maybe she had finally snapped.

"Mmm..." she murmured.

He made a sound like he was choking. "Stop! What the hell are you doing?"

The scratches from her fingernails had started bleed angrily. She was turning his back into hamburger. He didn't seem to care.

"…get off me…" he murmured, "... going to fucking kill you… Do you understand I'm… oh…"

She looked him in the eye as they kept going. She was close to his face. He was actually looking at her this time. He hadn't done that before.

And she had never heard him do this before.

She hadn't; not in all the times he had pulled her over, down or thrown her into the wall.

Then he had been measured and even. Each breath, each thrust each little noise had been steady as a metronome.

Now he was quickly dissolving into panting, heavy breathing and incoherent whimpering. His head sunk and pressed lightly against her shoulder as they tried to keep up the rhythm. He was groaning, his head rolling against her shoulder, his eyes trying to stay open.

He had never really touched her, had he? He had held her down, held her back and kept her silent while he did what he did. And after a while he had just lapsed into silence and let her go.

But he had to have enjoyed it before, right? Why wouldn't he? It wouldn't do any good otherwise.

But she had never seen him this... unhinged. Uncontrolled. Wild.

She maneuvered her hands up to his shoulders, digging her nails in to the cuticles as she threw her legs over his back and locked her ankles. She pulled him on top of her, giving in to the enjoyable feeling of him just… covering her.

"No… NO! Oh God, DON'T…!" he screamed.

She felt the flesh under her fingers… change.

Still blinded by the mass of his chest, she ran a hand along his back. It was covered with a strange carpet of… something, something soft and almost ticklish.

She tried to peek around his back to see what was happening, but he pressed her into his chest.

"_Don't look_…" he said, or thought, she still couldn't tell the difference. "_Don't see_."

With a command like that, she had to peek.

_Monster…_

He looked… as inhuman as he usually acted.

A strange carpet of tiny transparent wings spread over his shoulders and back, set after set pushing their way out of his body. Each set bloomed from the scratches she had opened up. They all fluttered franticly, as if there were hundreds of birds under the skin, fighting to get out..

The wings started to grow larger and larger, began to push their way out of his raw abused back. A massive set behind his shoulder blades pushed up high enough to start scraping at the ceiling. His eyes glowed with an unearthly light, as cold blue as they were during any other time. His blonde hair seemed to get paler somehow.

"It's all right." She whispered. "It doesn't change anything."

He yelped and shook his head. The roar in the room was starting to build. She couldn't take her eyes of the evolving form in front of her. It was frightening to say the least, but for the first time that she knew him, he could have been beautiful. Like an avenging angel.

An Angel.

Was this the Angel arm, then?

She had never seen it, just the strange light the day the hole had been blasted into the fifth moon. Vash had tried to explain afterwards what the Arm looked like, but she could never really imagine it. An ordinary arm turning into a weapon of mass destruction that even its owner could barely control.

Knives might not be able to stop. He really was going to kill her.

He was pressing her down into the mattress. His face was contorted, his hands fisted in the sheets and shaking under the strain, struggling to control whatever was happening to his body even as his hips frantically bucked against hers. The veins in his arms were swelling and shrinking, pulsating with alien force. She buried her face into Knives' chest as she clung to him. It was against her better judgment, but she didn't know what else to do. Her hands reached up and clasped around his neck. A carpet of tiny, quivering wings tickled her fingers. It felt so good, like a kind of strange fur. He felt so warm…

She buried her fingers in the soft fuzz. "Knives..." she murmured, unsure if he would hear him.

He let out a screaming wail, the furthest thing from pain, and light exploded into the room. She heard a noise like a huge clay jug breaking and it was suddenly… snowing. White was everywhere, floating, hovering, and flying around them. Warmth flooded into her along with the realization that this had certainly damn well never happened before. As she felt herself be filled she became suddenly… calm. Not just calm - peaceful, relaxed, and euphoric. As if it was all happening to someone else. It couldn't have been her giving the needy little sighs that seemed to be driving him on. It wasn't her body his arms wrapped around, tight enough to start snapping ribs. Couldn't be.

She absently wondered how they were going to explain all this to Vash just as she and the room were completely overcome with the same strange light she had seen at Augusta…

* * *

"_Oh Knives… you're always so quiet." _

_He was on the SEEDs ship again, his head comfortable in Rem's lap. He looked up at the shadows the artificial sunlight played across her peaceful features. "Is that bad?" _

"_Not at all!" she giggled._

_This was how he liked Rem. This was when he cared for her. When she stopped talking about love and peace and compassion and just showed him. He could never explain it to her, but in moments like these, he felt he didn't need any words with Rem. That they could speak to each other with their minds alone, just like he did with his brother. _

_His brother. He could sense Vash was coming closer and he knew he didn't have much time. Once Vash got there, he and Rem would be off playing some silly game. They would always offer, but he knew it was polite to decline. Typical human. You'd like to think they could surprise you but in the end, she never stayed. They never did._

_Why didn't anyone ever stay?_

* * *

It took a while to realize that the room had been destroyed.

They were sprawled on the shredded mattress where it lay on the floor. The wood frame of the bed had splintered, and then shattered. Every piece of furniture in the room had disintegrated. Anything metal had melted, everything ceramic had crumbled and cloth was torn to ribbons.

Plaster had been blown off the walls, which were now nothing but the skeleton of rebar and mortar. There was a Thomas-sized hole blown out of the roof above them. They were both white with masonry dust. The window had blown out. From where the ruined mattress lay on the floor, it was hard to tell if the house itself was still standing or not.

None of it mattered.

She still saw that last memory as its ghost hovered before her.

He was still clinging to her, shivering and clearly shocked, his skin hot to the touch. Her hand was still gently stroking the hair on the back of his neck. He gave a muttered whimper, but seemed to calm down a little bit.

The wings hadn't all fully retracted. It was strange, the way they folded up and tucked themselves back under the skin. She watched as the dozens of openings in his back glow briefly then melted back into unmarked skin before her eyes.

* * *

Knives was waiting for her on the bench outside the diner after her shift had ended.

Afternoon was starting to cool down into night, but it was still bright out. Children still played in the abandoned streets, a good distance away. She stood for a second and looked at him before she sat down next to him. She pulled the opened letter from her pocket and handed it to him. He read it in silence.

"Well. He's finally coming back."

"Some of the kids are coming with them," she said.

"I'm sure he'll keep them out of my way."

"You know that… things will have to change," she said. "He'll notice a difference otherwise. They all will."

"Nothing is going to change. Nothing."

A baseball rolled past them. They sat quietly on the bench while a herd of giggling kids ran after it.

"What exactly happened that night?"

"My body was acting against my will. It's a low-level disturbance, a smaller gauge of the arm. It's rare, but when it does flare up, it occurs in… similar situations. In all honesty, in my experience there wasn't a case where a human survived the initial blast. When I told you to stop, I was trying to warn you. You should have been dead by now."

"It doesn't seem to bother you that it could happen again."

"You must think that's why we should stop." He said, "Most humans do tend to think only as far as the limits provided by physical pain."

"It's one of the reasons, I think you should stop." She tried to emphasize the 'you'.

"Don't start that again."

"Then don't pretend that you gave me any kind of choice. Don't try to convince me I've asked for this. I'm disgusted that you don't give me the same level of respect as an animal would give to another in the same situation."

"But that assumes that the two animals are equals, doesn't it?"

"It assumes nothing."

They sat in silence, watching the little kids play.

"Still… you seem to have adapted quite well to all this, all things considered."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's not as if you are fighting me anymore, thrasher that you are. You haven't fought me in a long time."

"If I had kept screaming you would have eventually become annoyed and tried to break my neck. I was trying to survive."

"Yes, I'm sure you were. Still. Survival instincts present themselves in different ways. Not that I wasn't glad you didn't dissolve into pitiful martyr mode like some humans. Screaming that you'd never _really_ submit to me. Calling me a fiend for some arcane reason. But even with your glaring human faults, I'm beginning to..." He stopped himself. "I have an offer for you."

"Can I refuse?"

"Of course not. But it will be easier for us both if you accept."

"What offer?"

"I'd like to do some research on what caused the… activation a few nights ago. I'm curious why those conditions created the low-level disturbance."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"I'd need you to help me recreate the environment that activated the arm." He told her, adding, "In the name of the research, of course."

"Why would I willing help you try to kill me again?"

"Because I'm going to try it anyway; you've known that from the very beginning. Besides," he said, "If you cooperated, I could make it much more pleasant than it has been."

"Pleasant?"

"Not as tedious, I mean. I know that has been annoying you. Quite frankly, your thoughts were so loud, it was hard to miss."

She managed ignore that. "And what do you mean by pleasant?"

"I don't wish to say in a public place." He said, "But I'm sure you wouldn't be bored."

She felt a blush starting as her imagination filled in the blanks for her. "I'm… almost interested as to what that means."

"I said I didn't wish to say."

Her eyes focused on his shoulder "Could you show me before I accept?"

"When I already said you can't refuse?"

She sighed. "Well then, I guess I have no choice."

"Good." He stood up and walked towards the bike like a reigning king. He stopped halfway to look back at her. "Come."

Meryl stammered, then growled, but got up and followed him.

* * *

Now, off in the distance, desert dust reached to the sky marking the arrival of their car. They stood on the porch, side-by-side. Watching.

"This is going to be hard to explain." Meryl said.

"He'll know before she does. He can tell already that something's changed."

Meaning she would be the one to explain things to Milly. "How do I explain something I don't understand myself?"

"Just use words with single syllables and go slowly." he said, "Once you tell her no one's leaving, I'm sure she'll cheer up."

"No one's leaving?"

"No. I'm not running from this." Knives looked at her, "I'm not my brother." The statement was a growl, a jail sentence, an apology, a quiet sigh of remembrance.

"No." she said, "No you're not. You're something else."

He recognized the hidden complement as well as the insult, and looked startled. Then he smiled, and placed his right hand on her right shoulder. The touch felt like a rare, cold wind coming off of the desert. The warmth of what affection he showed not canceling out the cold that still lay underneath. But it was a soothing feeling against the heat of the coming noonday suns. Calm. She leaned into it, he let her.

The sound of violently shifting gears made her realize with a start that Vash was already parked in front of the house. There was more luggage than before tied to the bumper, and a handful of small children were peeking out of the back seat.

She could see Vash, his hands clenched around the wheel, looking at his brother with gritted teeth, clearly thinking the worst. Milly was riding shotgun; staring, blinking rapidly, confused nearly to the point of tears. She was oblivious to the scared little one tugging on a hunk of her long brown hair.

With Knives' hand still on her shoulder, they silently stepped off the porch and walked together to the car. A scream of change was coming up over the horizon, ready to come in with the first spoken word in this strange new world.

* * *

**_Finis_**

* * *

**Notes:**

First off I must send out many, many, _MANY_ thanks to everyone who has kept with the story… especially those fantastic people who have reviewed. Special thanks go out to 'ggundamaddict' and 'Lady Spezz' who reviewed high, loud and often. (Danke!)

But now onto the smut. (Don't pretend you haven't been waiting for it.)

When I wrote up the story originally I also wrote a smutty, stand-alone chapter that I couldn't fit in anywhere in the plot. After fiddling around with it I think it would do quite well as an epilogue. But it still needs some work and with the way my schedule is I didn't know if I'd have the motivation to get it finished by next Friday.

But I didn't want to leave you guys hanging while I fiddled around with that chapter. Fiddling can take me months, especially when I'm looking for motivation. Sad to say, I've done that in the past. And I know people stop reading if they don't know when I'm going to get off my backside to finish something.

So I've come up with an unusual solution.

I'm going to let you, the readers, decide when I post the last chapter.

**I'm going to set a goal of 3000 hits for the story as a whole. (It currently has 1050) Whenever the counter hits 3000 hits for the story, that's when I _must_ post the stand alone epilogue. **If it hits 3000 a year from now, that's when I must post it. If it hits 3000 this Saturday, that's when I must have to post it.

So what about this puts you guys in control? The more you reread, or tell other people about the story, the more hits the story gets. The more hits the story gets, the quicker the smut arrives. Huzzah!

Plus I'll spend every waking moment from here until then sweating and twitching and basically being a nervous wreck. My family and friends will find me muttering to myself 'Has it hit 3K yet?' or 'What if I don't have it done?' and 'If I was Meryl, how would I get the Angelina clean after doing _that_ on it?'.

You can't buy that kind of motivation.

I haven't done anything quite like this with my fanfic, and I am more than a little profoundly nervous about trying it, so I hope you guys like participating. Or just don't get so irritated with me you start projectile vomiting.

Either way, I'll see you when we reach 3000.

Happy Holidays!


	8. Epilogue 1 of 3

This post isn't exactly as 'noonish' as I had hoped, but apparently my computer is still recovering.

So, for those of you who've been following my Twitter page (LiosFicTwit, see my Profile for the link), you know we hit 3,000 hits on Sunday. (Can I get a 'Booyah'? BOOOYAH!)

But you also know that my computer is sick… and though Painful's epilogue was saved, it was saved from an earlier draft.

Ergo, the smuttiest smut was lost and I'm still trying to reconstruct the good parts.

So, in order to keep up my end of the bargain, AND to give you an excellent finished product, I'm going to be posting the epilogue in three sections. Check back next Monday for the next installment.

Thanks again everyone, everyone, EVERYONE for getting us this far! I'll see you with more on Monday!

* * *

"Your ride's here!" Judy called to Meryl.

Meryl stopped stacking dishes and wiped her hands on her apron. She fumbled it off, dropped it in the dirty laundry bin, and walked out to stand by Judy in the window.

Knives was wearing a set of his brother's clothes. He reclined casually against the Angelina III. He was catching the eyes of both men and women as he stared into the diner.

"And to think, Vash said there weren't any more at home like him." Judy said, with a pitiful sigh.

"They may be twins Judy, but they aren't alike." Meryl warned her boss.

"Hon, for a butt like that, I could ignore a lot of shit."

* * *

The weather was less dusty than it had been, so Meryl's perch on Angelina was actually pleasant. The roar of the engine was soothing, and the chance to spoon against Knives' back a rare indugence.

Ten minutes into the trip, Knives' voice appeared in her head. _I suppose I should ask you how work was._

**Why are you asking?**

_Vash has been telling me that I need to treat you better._

**As he does?**

_Seems so._

**Do you have to? One man ignoring me is enough.**

She saw a grin twitch at the corner of Knives' mouth.

Vash had been angry. Oh, had he ever been. But his anger had all gone to Knives. It had been three months since he, Milly and the kids had returned and he hadn't said ten words to Meryl. Meryl didn't know if that meant he no longer trusted her or just wasn't sure what to say.

What it did mean was that time alone with Knives was over. They hadn't been able to talk after 9PM, visit each other's rooms, or be alone together. When they tried, Milly or Vash would suddenly be in the room. They'd inevitably be towing half a dozen orphans and surprised that Knives didn't know they had just been looking for him.

And no more experiments. Not that they had gotten far. The 'activations' of Knives' 'lower arm' became less intense if it was activated often. And while Knives was never docile, he managed to relax when regularly activated.

Surprisingly, Knives' bodily fluids were having an increasingly intense effect on her. Saliva, sweat, and semen in large amounts had started making her feel dizzy, giddy and extremely… well… horny. Knives had hypothesized about it being 'cumulative exposure'. And he had decided to test that theory out by performing acts on her that left Meryl soaked… in more than one sense.

God, Meryl missed those experiments.

_We will end up dead by the side of the road if you keep doing that._

Meryl realized her hands were enjoying rubbing up and down Knives' stomach.

**Of course. I should wait until we can get home. Vash would be happy to supervise.**

Knives was silent.

**We're about half way home, aren't we? **

Knives was still silent.

**If we saw something off in the distance, had to go check it out… no one would remember if we were a few minutes late.**

Knives' grin, even from behind was sinister.

_I don't do anything to you in just a few minutes._

The bike veered hard to the right and went off road. After a safe distance away from the pavement the engine died, the bike hit the sand still moving and its owners shortly thereafter.

"Keep it on. Keep it all on." Knives said as he saw Meryl working the buttons of her blouse. His hand was quickly working loose the buttons on his fly.

"I'm greasy and disgusting with this thing on," she protested, slipping her panties off.

"I'll deal." His cock sprung free of his clothing and she bit her lip with a little groan.

He pushed her back onto the dune and she spread her legs. She yelped when he entered her and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"I doubt they can hear us from here, Stryfe."

"Don't talk," Meryl moaned. The hand on her mouth had slid up to twist in her hair. Her other hand was still trying to fiddle open the buttons on her blouse, "not now."

He covered her and began thrusting into her. Deep frantic strokes, his hands clawing against her arms and shoulders as he struggled for balance.

Meryl was suddenly making more noise than she had in months.

Every time she whimpered, or screamed, or begged, or tried to move, Knives did exactly what she didn't know she wanted.

He shifted her into a half-dozen positions, every crevice on both of them steadily filling with sand, before he had her on her back again.

As she started racing closer and closer to her edge, the setting suns had dyed the sands as red as sin. Knives was driving into her like a jackhammer and shedding feathers, his face showing he was unsure how long they'd stay hidden.

* * *

An hour and a half late both Knives and Meryl, walking the Angelina III, appeared on the doorstep of the compound. They looked like they had been mauled by a rampaging Thomas herd and were both trying desperately not to smile.

Vash was waiting for them, standing on the porch with crossed arms.

"I think it might need a tune-up." Knives said, smugly.

Vash started picking Meryl up from work the next day.


	9. Epilogue 2 of 3

He wasn't able to talk to her for quite a while afterwards.

He had to wait until Vash was engaged in a game of horsy with half their orphan population and Milly was doing battle with a pot of al dente pasta.

Stryfe had been peeling potatoes on the back porch with one of the young boys.

The way her neck was bared by the loose-fitting collar was strangely fascinating.

He stood in the doorway, flicking his eyes from Stryfe's neck to Vash trying to free himself from a mound of orphans. Vash despised the way things had turned out between him and the girl. Vash had known that Stryfe wouldn't be killed, the peace between them was too unsteady to attempt that, but Vash had assumed that somehow the girl would redeem him. He certainly hadn't expected that Knives would corrupt her. Perhaps it had something to do with Vash's fixation that she was, indeed, Rem's next life.

But the girl had gotten to Knives, however unintentionally. She had seen past their severe introduction to each other, and had proven herself to be ravenous every chance that presented itself. The growing realization that their private tastes were not entirely different had made his increasingly aware that her form, for the moment, was just out of reach.

Knives had sat down, quietly, and the conversation between woman and boy had stumbled in confusion. Knives picked up a knife and a potato and started quietly working with them.

"You've got to let her have a little time to celebrate her birthday." Stryfe told the boy.

"I don't understand why she's gotta have a party, just for her. She's mean. She let my pet snake out."

"That doesn't mean she doesn't deserve a birthday party." Stryfe told him. "You had a birthday party in April. Everyone deserves to have someone like them sometime."

The child wasn't buying it.

"Besides, now your next birthday is closer than hers. You get yours sooner." She said, with a conspirators whisper.

"I guess." The kid said.

"C'mon. Go see what your friends are doing. I bet they're hog-tying Mr. Vash by now."

The kid toddled off, and Stryfe slid up next to Knives.

"Need any help?" she asked him, working the skin off her potato in little swipes.

"I think I can manage."

They sat on the porch, innocently scraping the peelings into a bowl. Stryfe was listening, as he was, to make certain that the boy rejoined his friends before they started to speak.

Vash had insisted that no one talk of unpleasant things that The Adults had to deal with around them. They were Wolfwood's children after all, and Vash was bound and determined to give them the happiest childhood possible.

Vash lived with Wolfwood's ghost so regularly that they might as well have set him a place at dinner every night. Knives often wondered if he had made a colossal mistake in doing away with the preacher. Especially since the rules that Vash used to keep the preacher's children safe also prevented him from visiting Stryfe on a regular basis.

"Is Vash…? OK?" she finally asked.

"No less than he usually is, I suppose."

"I thought you talked in the evenings."

"Things have changed."

"Oh." She switched potatoes, and kept swiping. "I'm having trouble getting anything out of him. I try to talk to him, and he just says he needs to go look after the kids."

"It might be true. There's a large number of them."

"He looks at me like… like I'm the enemy."

"You are. You didn't do what he hoped you would."

"You know a lot from not talking to him."

"Past experience only. Hindsight, if you will."

"So how can I get him to talk to me again?"

"I haven't figured out redemption just yet."

They sliced in silence. Stryfe looked behind them.

"I've missed you at night." She said, dropping her voice, "But I know I shouldn't try to change things."

"Considering the circumstances, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Mmm…"

Stryfe got him a new potato to replace the one he'd been working on. Their knees touched.

He remembered those knees being slung over his shoulders, the toes curling so hard he could hear the bones crack.

Stryfe had made him ignore that a filthy human could make him do such things with such ease that he wondered who had really corrupted whom. He was starting to get so frustrated about the situation. He was starting to behave irrationally.

It had been irrational to give into her request that day on the bike.

Stimulating, but irrational.

"What little time I have, and I'm throwing it away so Vash is comfortable."

An odd little non-sequitur. "Exactly how little time do you have?"

"It's nothing."

"Well. You're right at least about throwing away time. I could talk to Vash again."

"Will it help?"

"Of course not."

* * *

Vash only hung up his new black trench coat inside the privacy of his own room. On its peg it looked like a blackened human skin, peeled from its owner and dried in the sun for a thousand years. A symbol, an idol - a fetish.

It took the brothers a while to adjust to each other's presences. Weeks of intentional avoidance can't be dropped easily. But eventually Vash began to talk, slowly becoming his bubbly former self. Knives smiled pleasantly and did his best not to break the mood.

As Knives realized things had gotten late and that he needed to leave, Vash's subject became broader. He spoke as if he was trying to get everything out that he might forget to tell him later.

The last thing he said almost made Knives sit back down.

"… and we've decided to start work on the big house tomorrow. The big one at the end of the street."

The deserted town, which the grown-ups had started calling Little Beyond All Hope, had one main street that stretched just under a quarter of a mile straight. Eight buildings lined that street.

Six of the eight faced each other on either side of the road. The former Town Hall capped one end of the street. A large mansion with a broke open roof and three stories, the other. It had been the den of some wood tycoon or steamship baron. That was the big house.

"You're serious."

"Yeah," Vash blinked, "why not?"

"Why are we doing that?" Knives asked.

"We've got to do something; the kids are all growing up so fast. They'll need a place to stay where they each have a room."

"They have that now, brother." Knives pointed out. When Milly and Vash had returned, they had gotten to work merging the main house with another one next door. "It will be another difficult project."

"Difficult or not, they need room. Besides," he said, as he lay down to sleep, "What else is there to do around here?"

* * *

The girls, as always, worked on a domestic front for the project. One of them would take care of the kids, enforcing Mr. Vash's rules that they steer clear of the demolition. The other would help out at the site - hauling rubble, checking supplies, serving cold drinks.

Three days into gutting the place, Knives realized something.

"Meet me here in the foyer after the children go to sleep." He murmured to Stryfe when she was going around giving everyone lemonade.

That night she was there before he was.

"What did you want?" she asked.

"The walkup attic has a door that locks," he told her.

The spare futon was right where he had hidden it.

They tried hard and fast initially, but realized that they'd bring the entire house down if they kept it up. Making a few adjustments, they learned how to move slowly. It felt better than he had ever expected and Stryfe's skin was hotter to the touch than a furnace. She found release twice, the second time whimpering out his name in a way that threw him into release hard and angry.

As he came, he fought the activation of the lower arm. His hands mangling a pile of 2X4s laid at the side of the bed. The feathers underneath his skin were scratching like a frantic Thomas. But their freedom meant light and noise. He couldn't risk it.

As their breathing began to slow and calm, the attic was thick with the smell of burnt hair and electricity. His back hurt. His ribs hurt down to the bone. He certainly didn't care.

"Can we come back tomorrow?" she whispered, head pillowed against his bicep.

"Unless we've both been struck blind beforehand," he said, as he wrapped one shaking arm over her shoulders.

"Good." She said, swallowing hard. "I think we need a blanket up here."

* * *

There was the concern that someone had seen, someone had heard, but it seemed to be an irrelevant fear as time passed.

The house was finally cleaned out, and the slow process of putting up walls began. Vash seemed to take Knives' interest in doing the attic as a sign that he was warming up to the project.

The project of the entire attic was a large one, even with the intentional delays. The blanket had been brought up, as well as a small alarm, then a few pillows, changes of clothes, a box to hold everything. Had anyone ventured up, it would be apparent that the room was being used for something else besides renovation.

"Too bad we weren't able to bring up a boxspring."

"Might have helped." Knives agreed.

If he had been with a mere human toy, Knives would have found the night quite enjoyable. He would have had a small amount of pleasure, then strangled the creature - taking great enjoyment in watching the frantic disbelief on their face - and that would have been it. He could have propped the corpse behind him as a pillow and enjoyed the stars unhindered.

Instead he was with Stryfe. Stryfe, who made his body want to grown wings, burn and destroy when he certainly couldn't. Stryfe, who didn't seem to mind at all if he didn't look human.

They both stared up through what was left of the patched ceiling. The light of the moons was brilliant. The work was well done, in spite of everything else. Knives knew how to rebuild.

"When the children move in, Vash might lighten up."

"Do you really believe that?" she asked, watching as her fingers spread out over his chest. He looked down at her, as she rested her cheek against his collarbone. She watched her hand glide over his chest and down his stomach, slow and steady, raising goose bumps.

"You don't?" he asked.

Her mind was closed to him.

He could have opened it, cracked her skull at places that would ensure it was never closed again. It would have been an enjoyable way to pass on the pain in his back and bones.

He didn't.

"You're hiding something," he told her.

She looked up at him, irritated.

"Well?"

"I like this," she told him.

"Of course."

"How long do you think I have before you won't consider me any more?"

"What?"

"It's not as thought this is emotional," she told him, "I know it's something we both do because we like it. We like that way each other can fuck our brains out without any attachments whatsoever. But I am human. I'll age faster than you or Vash ever will. I'm repulsive to you now, but it's something you can pass off. I'll grow old and repulsive further, as I keep waiting for Vash to let down his guard for a measly second… but I like this. I'm willing to keep going. But… How long do you think I have before you realize that I am repulsive?"

"I'm sure it won't for a while. Years." Knives said, strangely concerned. "I'm surprised it means that much to you."

She got up and dressed then, and left before he did.

* * *

The next day, the little boy who had complained to Stryfe about the little girl's birthday was stung badly by a sand wasp. Milly got to him first and he refused to let go of her even as Vash treated his wounds.

It was bad enough that Vash realized they had to get him to a doctor, and he promised the little boy ice cream if he behaved.

Soon the rest of the children found out that all you needed to get a big pile of ice cream was a sting, and there were shortly several more victims.

To keep a lid on the situation, Vash and Milly rounded all the kids up into the car, and drove everyone into town.

In all the confusion, for the first and last time, they forgot he and Stryfe were on the compound by themselves.

By the time they wandered out onto the main road, kith and kin were a good hour and a half away.

They met at what had been the direct center of the little town, by the remains of a fountain that had never seen a drop of water.

"Do you know where everyone is?" Stryfe asked, hand over her eyes trying to block out the suns.

"Not a damn clue."

"You didn't hear anything?" Stryfe asked, "I was canning, so – "

"And I was working." Knives cut across her.

"When do you think they'll be back?"

"Don't know." He said.

There was a long pause, as they each surveyed the landscape around them.

"I'd kill to see you on all fours again." Knives said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Stryfe bit her lip, and looked him over.

Smiled fiendishly.


	10. Epilogue 3 of 3

The race up to the attic was frantic, but when the door was closed, and braced from the inside, their movements became unsure. It was broad daylight out; they hadn't done this in broad daylight. There had always been a fear that they'd be spotted.

They could still be spotted. Vash could still come back at any moment.

After a few false starts, Knives undressed her. She did the same after he was done. Lying down on the mattress, they were shielded by the tarp overhead, but hot daylight was trying to creep in around every floorboard, painting white stripes over their reclining, naked forms. They lay side by side for a moment, quietly breathing, when Strife climbed up onto his chest. Amused by the novelty and the crush of her breasts visible against his chest, he let her.

She let her fingertips lightly graze over his skin, raising goose bumps, even with the heat raging outside. She let her tongue linger along his collarbone and drift slowly up his neck to carefully play with his earlobe. After understanding what she has doing, he let the hands he had rested on her hips do the same. Her lips let go of his earlobe as his fingers drifted lower and into territories he knew were sensitive.

"Do you have any preference?" He asked.

"You did say you wanted me on all fours…" Stryfe told him.

"Yes, but it's comfortable like this. Let's split the difference." He rolled both of them over to the right, and gently rolled her again, so she was spooned up against him. Hooking her knee and his elbow, he lifted her leg and carefully found and pushed himself inside her, agonizingly slow.

The "Oh…" she gave in response was both a gasp, and a choke. She visibly shivered when he nipped at her ear before beginning to fuck her in long, careful strokes.

"Yes…" Knives hissed as he moved.

Stryfe made no distinct sounds. She came when he played with her clit, hard and fast, but otherwise there was no indication of if she was enjoying herself or not. It aggravated him.

"I thought you said you had no preference," he said.

"I don't."

"Then what's the matter? They're gone."

"It's not that. It's nothing." That was a phrase which always aggravated Knives. When a human said that phrase, it was anything but 'nothing'.

"What do you want to do next?"

"Could we sit up?"

Knives sat up on the bed, his legs crossed. Stryfe found his cock and carefully slid it back inside her, wrapping her legs around his back.

"I remember this," he told her.

"I thought you would."

"Are you sure you want to try it this way?"

"I don't mind doing all the work."

"Neither do I, if you're so inclined," Knives admitted.

She rocked slowly up and down, making noises that clearly showed she was enjoying herself. Knives hand found her shoulder and his slightly parted lips her temple. His free hand lazily played against her stomach, occasionally cupping one breast. Her open lips brushed against his, lightly, with each rise and fall of her body. But as she started to rise, her lips found his and lingered.

He pulled away, surprised, "What the hell?"

"Sorry," Stryfe muttered, "Sorry, I didn't mean to…" She looked away, "I won't do it again…"

She went back to rising up and down, but Knives grabbed her shoulders. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Why?" he asked.

"We don't have much time, if we want—"

"I asked you why."

"I… I would have regretted it. You don't have to touch me, you don't even have to look at me, but if I didn't try the last thing we hadn't done…"

"But you rejected me when I did it to you."

"What?" she said, surprised, "You didn't. I would have remembered if you…"

"The shower."

She looked spectacularly confused before blurting out, "You weren't doing it right…"

He looked like he was ready to start a real fight.

"Could I show you?"

He looked as put out as someone in his position could. "Go ahead."

She leaned forward and kissed him sweetly, lips closed. She leaned back, and looked him in his eyes to see what his reaction was.

Curious.

She carefully leaned forward and kissed him with her lips parted. Then, shyly, with a touch that carefully touched the tip of his tongue to hers, she kissed him deeper. He responded, but just as quickly pulled back and away. She leaned away from him, she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Thank you. I just…"

Both of his hands each found a side of her head, and pulled her back. It was still inexperienced, but determined. As she responded, his hands remembered the rest of the body available to him; she happily squirmed at each touch. His hips twitched forward, violently, surprisingly, and she moaned into his mouth. He responded by chuckling into hers. He did it again, and she responded, until they had a rhythm of movement down. It's almost impossible to keep mouths together with two moving bodies, but a system of quick stops came into play when the problem was realized.

As she tried to get a better grip on his back, she realized he was shedding feathers, long ones at that, already. He eyed them concerned. She took an especially long one, and drew it over his arms and chest as they moved, before biting down into it, like a sand bandit into a prized dagger. He laughed like a mad scientist, and pulled it from the side of her mouth, playing it around her face. She leaned back, so she could put both hands on the mattress.

His skin and eyes were already starting to glow, the feathers were pouring out of his skin. The down feathers that came off of the back of his neck were itchy. He kept shrugging his shoulders between strokes to loosen them.

She pressed herself against him again, kissed him gently, and carefully pulled a handful of fluff off of the back of his neck. She blew the loose feathers out of her hand, and up into the air just above them. He watched her, a little amazed around the driving lust, as her hands wandered down his back, pulling out the looser long feathers, her nails lightly scratching into his back.

**Pretty bird**, she gently thought to him.

She hadn't realized he'd heard her, until he responded; _I'm about to loose control._

**Let me see.**

He gasped, _You can't want to… the arm… it's coming, I can't…_

**Do you need me a certain way? On all fours? **

_You're not help—! Ah! Your back, damn you, lie on your back!_

She quickly complied, pulling him out of her, and collapsing back onto the mattress, shivering at the loss of warmth and sensation. She had to squint at the bright light pouring out of Knives' eyes, as he fell on top of her. He closed his eyes, and she helped guide his cock back inside her, as he finally thrust home, and began pushing inside her furiously.

_You freak, you worthless piece of garbage, what other being has this reaction when they mate?! _Knives said, clearly not realizing that Stryfe could still hear him. _Your brother should have destroyed you when he had the chance. She doesn't know what she's getting into._

**Of course I do!** She protested.

He cut the connection.

"Knives!" She screamed in the real world, already short on breath.

_You weren't supposed to hear that._

**And I'm not supposed to respond either? You're not a monster.**

_Oh yes. Vash and I dueled to the death because it was a slow afternoon._

**You could have destroyed humanity twenty times over since you started walking again. You haven't, you've improved.**

_These are fine words coming from the woman who could very well be dead in a few moments, because she wanted to befriend me._

**I'm having sex with a god, it comes with part of the territory…And you'd only call this ****friendly**** behavior?**

_A god?_

**You don't... Ooo… believe you are? **

_Of course I believe I am, but I thought you had ruled that out._

**You have the face of a god, the body of a god the… **

The wings finally unfurled, like great massive arms they shot up towards the sky - shattering the roof.

_Fuck! Fuck! Weeks of work…!_

**Normal… humans can't do that…**

_As strange… as it may sound…I don't want you dead._

**Neither do I…you're so beautiful… like this…**

_Stop… No, you've got to…_

**I want to see the transformation…**

_You're not human chattel, run now!_

**Want to… be fucked… by my own personal deity…**

_FUCK!_

**Oh god, you feel good…** she leaned up, and kissed him on his clenched lips.

Within her mind, he gave a wordless sound.

**Oh god**, she chanted mentally, as the precome began to bring the euphoria that had first come over her, though not without a sense of both meanings its took in this situation, **Oh god, oh god, oh god, god, god, god….**

_Leave… everyone… you won't leave me… don't leave…_

**Mygodmygodmygodmygod…** she chanted, her eyes half open, watching his reactions and his unfurling wings…

_Don't leave… don't leave… don't leave…_ he mentally chanted with her.

His face contorted with pain, a half second away from climax, and he suddenly screamed physically and mentally "_COVER YOUR EYES!"_

* * *

An hour and a half drive away, both bandaged and healthy orphans were enjoying ice cream. Some of them had pooled their allowance and had gotten a red plastic Frisbee that they were throwing around. Vash had been quietly feeling… anxious for a long time since they had left, but was suddenly feeling better and was even thinking about asking Milly if they could stay a half hour longer.

Of course that was when they saw the direction of the homestead engulfed in light.

"Do you think it's dangerous?" One of the mothers on a nearby bench was asking another, "It's so bright."

"It sure is pretty though," the other one said, "It's got all the colors of the rainbow."

Vash swore under his breath.

"I beg your pardon!" one of the mothers said, insulted.

"They had to do it again, didn't they? After all the times I tried to keep them safe…"

"Mr. Vash, I'm sure they have a good explanation."

"Explanation?" the other mother asked, "You mean you know what's causing this?"

"Fireworks," Vash answered, shortly, "Someone's playing with fire."

* * *

Meryl only had two seconds to realize she was falling. Just enough time to scream Knives' name and cling to his falling body.

They landed, about a foot from each other, hard enough to rattle every floorboard. Meryl groaned as she tried to roll over. At least they had more or less landed on the bed.

"Anything broken?" Knives asked, frog in his throat, as he crawled over to her.

"Just the room," she said, wincing as she rolled over, "Mmm. They might know what's going on."

Knives was laying on his stomach, clutching at the ends of the thin mattress. The wings were slowly retracting back into his skin. Meryl perched her chin on his shoulder and watched them.

"The pain is intense." Knives quietly told her.

She threaded her fingers through the retracting feathers. Knives winced when the last feather was gone and his back healed smoothly over where they had emerged.

"You think I'm a god."

"Aren't you?"

"Do you believe yourself to be a worshiper, then?"

"A god is different from the God."

"So, no. Pity. I would have enjoyed hearing how you intended to take communion."

She snorted. "We should start getting dressed."

"By all means," Knives said, gingerly rolling on his side. He watched intently as Meryl limped across what was left of the room to retrieve her panties. They had become air born somewhere along the way, and had settled on top of a splintered 2X4.

"You could help." She pointed out.

"Possibly."

She shot him a look. After finally snagging and hopping into her underwear, she saw Knives lying on her bra. With low lidded eyes and a coy, dragging step, Stryfe slid over to the plant. Curling up to him she rolled him over onto his back, straddled him seductively… then pulled her bra free.

_Harlot _he thought at her, smirking.

**Irritating Jerk** she shot back. She straightened up and squirmed into her bra.

"Am I irritating?" Knives asked.

"Only when you're doing that."

"Mmm."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why ask if you're annoying?" Stryfe asked. She had rolled off the mattress and onto her feet again. She was still looking for her skirt.

"I'm thinking. Do you dislike working with me for long periods of time?"

"Not usually. You've got a good head on your… why all these questions?"

"As I said, I'm thinking."

"Are you thinking about what you're going to tell Vash?"

"Something like that."

"Then, no, I like working with you." She bent over and shimmied her skirt back into place. "So long as you're not on one of your bossy streaks... I can't stand it when people get bossy."

She paused when she saw him grinning, "What?"

"Nothing at all."

* * *

They stood out in the middle of the main road, as the car drove up at an angry pace. It parked angrily, oblivious of the "Wow! Cool!" remarks of some of the older male orphans at the now partially missing, partially smoldering roof. Milly had been driving, and Vash jumped out and nearly ran over to Knives and Meryl where they were standing.

"We need to talk." Vash said, through gritted teeth.

"Yes we do, come with me." He grabbed his brother's arm, and then Meryl's, and dragged them down the street and into the roofless mansion. Vash wrenched free of his brother's grip as soon as the door was closed, and began taking inventory on the minimal damage to the lower floors with an angry energy that even impressed Meryl.

"You were being honest with me, when I asked you those questions before?" Knives asked quietly.

"Yes." Meryl told him, "Why?"

"Because we're going to be living here."

"What?!" Vash yelped, "After all the work we've put into it—?"

"We've already destroyed some of that work, because of your constant need to keep us apart. It's not fit for your orphans to live in, and after this I know we won't be able to live under your roof in peace. I'm willing to put in the labor to turn one of the other buildings into lodging for the children, if you leave us this one."

Vash looked lost.

"I'm not heading out into the desert where you can only worry about what I'm doing. I'm not plotting the destruction of the human race, at least not at the moment. I'm not going to smack Stryfe around. I'm simply ensuring your precious December orphans are not somehow accidentally injured by seeing something they shouldn't."

"Meryl…" Vash finally said, "What do you want? Do you think… what do you think?"

Stryfe folded her arms in front of her. "I can't say I'm convinced."

"What." Knives said flatly.

"Really?" Vash said, suddenly cheerful.

"Just because," Stryfe said, stepping up to Knives and pulling herself up to her full height, "I sleep with you doesn't mean I don't know you can kill me tomorrow. I'm just a spider who makes a good pet. It's cruel of you to pretend I'm anything more."

Knives stared at her, eyebrow raised.

"Stryfe. You are the first human in a hundred years to activate the lower arm. In order to keep every human in this compound safe, it must continue to be activated. And activated regularly." Knives leaned in, his nose touching Meryl's "I must kept you safe. I must keep you close. And, most importantly – I must fuck you."

Meryl was aghast. "Y-you MUST-"

"Fuck you. Every night. Like a recently released felon."

Meryl swallowed. "But what are we going to do with all this space?"

Vash looked disappointed. "Fine. I guess I need to tell the kids."

* * *

THE END

* * *

This is it folks. The real end. Major thanks to everyone who reviewed, contacted me, encouraged me, gave me virtual cookies and just appreciated the story. If you did review, look for a personal thanks in your mailbox. (Tomorrow, though... I'm exhausted right now....)

And as for the rest of my fic, updates and breaking news will continue to be posted on my twitter page LiosFicTwit.


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